


Because All the Devils are Here, Of Course

by MickyRC



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Contemplation of the End of the World, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Scene: The Wall Slam in Tadfield Manor (Good Omens), listen it's a Moment it just is, this gets one tear drop on the SOSH scale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickyRC/pseuds/MickyRC
Summary: Aziraphale blinks once. Just once, when Crowley’s nose gets so close to bumping his own he feels his breath against his cheek.(He’ll hold that breath on his skin until the next time Heaven calls and he slowly, slowly scours every trace away.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #09 "Game"





	Because All the Devils are Here, Of Course

Aziraphale blinks once. Just once, when Crowley’s nose gets so close to bumping his own he feels his breath against his cheek.

(He’ll hold that breath on his skin until the next time Heaven calls and he slowly, slowly scours every trace away.)

Then he holds his eyes as open as they will stay because Crowley is so close he can see through his glasses and he can’t miss anything. They get so few of these moments, when there is excuse enough to stand this close. There are parts of Aziraphale that have tried to learn the sparks, the things he might do that will get Crowley to grab his lapels, or whisper in his ear. Crowley’s never been that predictable, though. There’s too much chaos inside him.

(They’ve had arguments over the word ‘devil.’ Downstairs it’s ‘demon;’ upstairs, ‘demon.’ “It’s just human nonsense, that.”)

Aziraphale wears too many layers to feel the heat of Crowley’s grasping hands, but that just means his clothing will soak up the warmth and give it back to him later. To be enjoyed when his attention’s not all on Crowley’s mouth and nose and eyes. His hair blending with Aziraphale’s own.

Human nonsense is all the nonsense there is on this planet and that’s the first thing that made Aziraphale go  _ oh _ and then  _ shit _ because this is not angelic and never has been. He remembers how stiff his corporation was when he first got it. It struggled to turn its head smoothly; it was hardly quick to blush. Now he has the muscles memorized, the nuances he can squeeze out of this form, and all of it directed towards a demon.

(If he’s supposed to keep his enemies close, Crowley’s doing enough work for the both of them.)

His ears soak everything in, “I’m a demon, I’m not  _ nice,” _ and that beautiful hiss and the bangs and crashes and shouts of the humans playing their game below. Will it be like that? The End? Will it be human toys warped into a human kind of destruction? Or a great foot stomping down in a casual step? A flood? Will it be a famine, or a plague, or a fire that starts in your chest and shoots up to burn out of your mouth (if your lips weren’t sealed so it has to turn elsewhere and scald the whole of you, boil all the air and make your head feel too light—

—as if he hasn’t felt this six thousand times already.)

The word “devil” is a flattened, faded carpet in their house because Aziraphale won’t budge and Crowley won’t stop pacing. Crowley doesn’t care for a distinction. Aziraphale has his: if demon is the word used Above and Below, if we ignore The Devil (as we are both wont to do) then it can mean only in a human way.

(Devilish. Synonyms: mischievous, roguish, cunning. Wily.)

Aziraphale sees only one place those words meet. It’s all he can see, where he is pinned.


End file.
